


Don't Call it a Relationship [Call it Love]

by Sierra_Butterfly



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 15:37:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11039145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sierra_Butterfly/pseuds/Sierra_Butterfly
Summary: 4 Years have passed since Ruby Rose first went to Beacon; 2 years have passed since the war against Salem officially ended. Now in the aftermath of war, the huntsmen and huntresses must rebuild their ranks and gain the kingdoms' trust once more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes first...For one, in this 'fic, Ruby was 16 when she was allowed to go to Beacon. This let's me play off the idea that the age of consent in Remnant is 16. For another, there is absolutely no relation between Qrow and Ruby.
> 
> Anyways, this is an older story I wrote months ago. It's really a series of one-shots that are related to each other, but not necessary to read back to back. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy :)

Whenever she was younger—filled with youthful bliss and naivety—she was saved by a silver haired man with sharp features and kind brown eyes. 

_His very appearance seemed like an oxymoron; he was strong and brave and a little on the scary side, and yet he was gentle as he scooped her limp body in his arms. He was even gentler when he held her against his chest as he jogged down the streets of Vale, only stopping when a familiar, gravelly voice intercepted them._

_“What happened?” Qrow._

_Hearing the concern in her mentor’s voice was enough for her to peel her eyes open slowly, her silver eyes glazed with a thin veil of tears in spite of the slivers of pain wracking her thin frame. Her training at Signal was good, especially after Qrow taught her how to fight with her scythe, but Roman Torchwick and the woman with him—Cinder—were too much for her to take on her own._

_She tried telling Qrow that she was alright, but her throat clenched the moment she tried forming words and instead she convulsed with coughing before slumping back against the silver haired man’s chest. His scent was a confusing yet enticing mixture of cocoa, cinnamon, and sweat._

_“Roman Torchwick,” the man said quietly, a grim note entering his voice. “And his companion, Cinder. I believe Ruby stopped Torchwick from stealing dust from the shopkeeper—managed to drive him off to his ship before Cinder joined him.”_

_Qrow scoffed and his gaze fell heavily on Ruby. She met his stare quietly, only halfway aware of her surroundings. “Just couldn’t let him get away, could you, kid?”_

_Weakly she shook her head and her uncle smirked, a brief gleam of pride passing through his crimson eyes before he flicked his attention back to the silver haired man. “I’ll take her to my place, Oz. No need to get her dad and sister worked up the day before Yang goes to Beacon.”_

_“Actually, I’d like to speak to Ruby when she’s up to it.”_

Four years had passed since that following morning, whenever the silver haired man she realized was none other than the Headmaster of Beacon offered for her to come to his school a year earlier than usual, whenever she was sixteen. 

Now she was twenty years old and she was a certified Huntress, even if that was more of a curse than a blessing nowadays. 

With Beacon gone—destroyed in the aftermath of the war started by the now missing Salem—Ruby was among the few of her year still alive. Many more of those who had survived had abandoned their quests to become Huntsmen and Huntresses as the carnage became too heavy on their souls. 

Ruby didn’t begrudge them. Some days she even envied them. They no longer faced the day to day turmoil of Grimm and death and fear. Perhaps they even escaped their nightmares, so many months and years removed from the wreckage of war. 

Her fingers tightened subconsciously on the hilt of her ruby red scythe, the coolness of the carefully constructed metal a comforting presence as she stared stonily at the silver haired man in the center of the room. If she were honest, she understood and even believed in the principle of his speech.

But they were going about it all wrong. 

The schools for Huntsmen and Huntresses were necessary, and now that so few were interested in the career, what with the Grimm being so potent throughout the land, it was difficult to fill the slots. 

Ozpin was proposing an idea to appease the militaristic minds of Remnant, while avoiding the savage suggestion the military provided. 

Ozpin was proposing a draft that would include those ages sixteen to twenty-five. The military was proposing mandatory combat schooling of children ten years and older, including men and women into their late twenties. 

Neither idea appealed to Ruby, yet she knew they needed more huntsmen and huntresses. They needed to replenish their numbers, and they needed to stand against the Grimm if they could ever hope to restore peace to Remnant. 

Once Ozpin finished talking a dull murmur flitted through the crowds, but Ruby’s attention was on a familiar man, stepping forward after draining his silver flask. “And what if they’re unwilling? Men and women who don’t want to fight will only die early deaths.” 

Ozpin made a vague gesture of acknowledgement, shoulders dropping wearily. “I know, but the Council will not listen to my protests. This is our best hope at saving kids from trauma and buying mothers and fathers a little more time with their families. We all know what the Council wants.” 

Qrow’s scowl deepened as he snarled something under his breath and turned on heel. Ruby followed his retreat with her gaze, worrying her lower lip as she considered following her former mentor. Before she could decide, Ozpin went on, “Take the night to consider what I’m proposing. We will vote tomorrow, and at any rate, we will return to other tasks at hand.” 

Ruby stood motionless as the other men and women left the room, silently surveying the sickened expressions and sorrowful eyes. Some dragged their feet while their shoulders slumped forward, a too familiar exhaustion draped most of them. 

Whenever Ruby and Ozpin were the only ones remaining, she looked up, face overcast in the shadows of her hood. 

“Ruby,” Ozpin said quietly, his body visibly relaxing as he recognized her. “I wasn’t sure if you would make it in time.” 

Ruby offered a small smile, the tilt of her lips the only noticeable feature in spite of the hood, and studied the man she once looked up to as her superior. An authority figure. War had a way of knocking down all barriers, including positions of authority and formality. “Ozpin,” she greeted with a nod. “I retrieved what you requested.” 

“Did you have any difficulties?” he asked, his gaze narrowed as he tried to understand the bitterness in her voice. 

She shrugged, grateful the shadows cloaked her small wince of pain. “They shot at me, about as you suspected.” Absently she reached into her cloak pocket and withdrew a scroll, handing it over. “I already removed the tracker, they shouldn’t be able to trace it.” 

“Thank you,” he said, pocketing the device before his gaze briefly scanned the rest of her body, halting at her waist where the cloth of her black cincher was torn, revealing dark crimson. “I really do appreciate that you were willing to do this.” 

In place of a response she shrugged, her silver eyes flashing for half a second before she looked away. _As though I had any choice_ , she thought ruefully. Ever since she’d learned to control the power of her silver eyes, she’d become one of Ozpin’s agents, same as Qrow. “You know the vote will be close tomorrow.” 

Ozpin nodded with a sigh. “I know, but it’s the best I can do. The Council won’t listen to me anymore.” 

Ruby frowned. “I know,” she said, tears gracing her eyes for a moment too long. They escaped down her pale cheeks, mixing with the dried blood and turning pink. “Weiss was there. Was one of the ones shooting at me. I couldn’t fight back.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said, and Ruby did not pull away as his strong arms wrapped around her. Nor did she pull back when he did, his eyes wide and horrorstruck as he glanced at his blood stained fingers. “Ruby, why didn’t you go to the medical ward?” 

“I just got here whenever the meeting started…and besides, the medical ward won’t do anything.” She didn’t need to elaborate. With the decrease in huntsmen and huntresses, there was also a decrease in medical supplies. The war had truly taken its toll on everything, and as such, even medical supplies were carefully rationed. 

Or in Ruby’s case, her silver eyes granted her extraordinary healing abilities, so the medical ward rarely offered her treatment unless she was wounded beyond her aura’s capacity to heal. 

Anger glistened in his warm brown eyes and Ruby felt a small shiver through her spine. “Come on,” he instructed, leading her out of the meeting room. His long fingers were warm around her wrist as he guided her down hallways, dimly lit by the intermittent lanterns. 

She briefly wondered where Ozpin was taking her, but another part of her trusted him so completely she couldn’t be bothered by his lack of explanation. 

She hoped he wasn’t taking her to the medical ward though; if he commanded them to, they would provide aid to her, but at the cost of murmurs following her for the next couple days. It would be made worse by Ozpin’s involvement. 

But instead of taking a right for the medical wards, Ozpin took a left and guided her down a more narrow hallway—one leading to bedrooms. Her heart skipped a beat whenever he stopped suddenly in front of a tan door with the number 127 crudely marked about head height. He dug out a key from his pants pockets and unlocked the door. 

He made a small gesture for her to go ahead and slowly she did, uncertainty lacing her veins as she wandered just far enough in for him to slip in himself and close the door behind them. The room was generally well lit by the lanterns and lights, but Ruby couldn’t quite look at him. 

“I’ve got some supplies,” he said finally, his gaze heavy on her back as she kept her head down, covered almost entirely by her cloak. “You shouldn’t wait and see if your aura can heal you.” 

“Thank you,” she said, peering from the shadows to see his brows furrowed in concern, his lips parted as though he were prepared to say more, but couldn’t get the words to escape. 

He nodded after a moment and walked away, telling her she could sit down if she liked. 

Slowly she migrated to the living room area, sinking into the soft cushions of the couch. Her mind tortured her with images of the war; scenes of her and Ozpin in close quarters after everyone else in their battalion was lost to them. 

During the war they had been close…they had grown close because of the things they had seen and the things they had to do. It had been natural at the time. 

Ruby wondered if they ever really thought about the consequences after the war, or if they thought they would live to see a time after the war. She could barely remember her thought processes at the time, because if she was honest, there hadn’t been much thinking on her behalf. 

There were days, weeks even, whenever they were the only company they had. Maybe that was the only source of their attraction. 

It hurt to consider that, but Ruby had avoided Ozpin almost entirely since the war ended, save for the missions Ozpin sent her on personally. She hadn’t been able to face him since then.


	2. Chapter 2

_“Ruby!”_

_“Yang!” She screamed, straining against the dark haired men that held her, their fingers leaving bruises on her upper arms, torqueing her dislocated shoulder in a way that should have been immensely painful._

_But she was immune to the physical pain—instead she was consumed in emotional agony as she watched her beautiful, confident sister morph into a terrified shell. Her throat felt raw as she screamed and thrashed, desperate to halt the blade plummeting towards her sister’s vulnerable neck. And then desperate to cradle her dying sister._

_And then everything changed, the colors melting like watercolor paint and rearranging to create a wholly new nightmare._

_Blake’s sharp gaze was dull, almost as lifeless as her cold and limp body. Ruby and Ozpin were covered in blood, some their own and some from their now dead enemy soldiers, and much of it from Blake._

_Ruby clenched Blake’s fingers in hers, tears streaming down her cheeks as she rasped reassuring nonsense. Silent tears escaped from Ozpin as well, though he remained vigilant of their surroundings. They were both too aware of their vulnerability right now, but Ruby was too washed in sorrow and anger to properly care._

_Salem and her army had stolen the life of another of her comrades. Her last team member, save for Weiss, who had long ago left the team._

_She felt the power behind her eyes begin to unravel and it took everything she had to hold it back, ghosting her hand across Blake’s blank stare._

_The worst part of war was the inability to mourn—the inability to respect and bury the dead. Ruby looked up at Ozpin and they shared a brief look before she nodded._

_They needed to go._

_“Ruby!”_

_Oh how she hated hearing her name screamed. It almost always led to heartbreak—although by this point it was closer to soul breaking. Every time she lost another person dear to her, it was like a piece of her very soul was chipped away._

_Nevertheless, she spun around, desperately searching the horde of Grimm, just in time to see Jaune fall with a slash across his chest, deep enough to reveal a flash of ivory before his crimson blood stained everything._

_“Ruby, we have to go!” Ozpin yelled, and she flicked her gaze up long enough to see the hundreds of Grimm in the distance, travelling their direction at haste. “Ruby, please!”_

_The image of Pyrhha, with an arrow through her chest, flashed, followed by the faces of Yang, Blake, Jaune, Nora, her father…_

A sob tore through her chest and she sprung awake, gripping at the fleece covers that tangled about her legs. Her breaths clawed their way out of her chest, sounding wet and breathy from the tears that soaked her cheeks and pillow. Every time her heart thumped hard against her sternum it felt as though someone was stabbing her with a jagged shard of glass. 

It was all too painful, and after another brief moment she nearly leapt from the bed, donned her cloak, and then she was running down the hallway. 

It was late, likely two or three in the morning, and very few people were out and about in the compound, save for the handful of interior guards and the full staff of perimeter guards. 

“I need out,” she told a light haired man guarding one of the exits, and after a moment of reluctance the man nodded and stepped out of the way. 

“Are you okay?” he asked slowly, recognizing her as a huntress but not necessarily by name. 

Ruby offered a small smile, though the guard could not see it with her hood drawn tight over her head, and shrugged. “Nightmares,” she said in brief explanation. 

Nothing else needed to be said—the guards who were certified huntsmen or huntresses before or during the war were familiar with the nightmares themselves, and those who were more recently certified knew well enough to leave the afflicted alone. 

Without another word, Ruby left the compound, the night’s cool breeze especially chilling against her damp cheeks. 

She didn’t wander far; she knew better than to meander more than a hundred yards away from the compound, else she could attract unwanted attention. And for her, virtually any attention was unwanted, given her escapades against the Council. From stealing scrolls of executive council members, to gathering intel on those departing the dwindling group of huntsmen and huntresses. 

A small, bitter smile graced her features as she stared up at the pale moon, wondering what her next mission would be. She wondered how the others perceived her. Since she had been certified as a huntress only weeks before the war began, she had established a reputation for herself very quickly. Oftentimes, people knew of her before they met her, but her reputation was not perfect. 

She was known to be successful, strong, and brave…but she was also known to be reckless at best, unstable at worst. In addition to her questionable relations and alleged “special treatment,” she had an equal number of admirers and skeptics. 

Ruby rarely cared what group people fell into, so long as they didn’t prevent her from doing her job, or force her to seek counseling as many had tried to. A counselor was the last thing she needed. Although, she supposed, she wasn’t likely to get what she needed, so perhaps it would be wise to settle. 

Perhaps, but unlikely. 

Footsteps crunched against the dried leaves littering the ground and she glanced up, recognizing the dark haired man with a smile. A part of her wondered if one of the guards had sent him to come talk to her, and then she decided he had likely come on his own accord. 

“They never really go away, but you probably already figured that one out,” Qrow rumbled whenever he was only a couple feet away. He looked tired as his fingers toyed with the silver flask almost absently. She wondered if he was even affected by the alcohol anymore as he took a short swish of liquor before offering the flask to her. 

With a shrug she accepted and tossed it back, the burning sensation down her throat a welcome and familiar presence. Whenever she was younger she never understood her mentor’s incessant drinking—now she understood perfectly. She only wished she was able to stomach alcohol as well as him. 

“People help,” he continued, his crimson gaze searching the shadows of her cloak. “If you stop secluding yourself, it might do you some good.” 

“I don’t—“ Ruby started to protest immediately, but Qrow shot her a challenging scowl and she stopped immediately, taking another sip from the flask instead. 

“You’re secluding yourself from him.” 

Him. Ruby glanced away and worried her lower lip. The simple word “him” and the knowing look Qrow sent her way procured an image of the man in question, his silver hair styled less meticulously than when she first met him, while his warm brown gaze was guarded more often than not, seemed to melt for her alone. 

“When did you figure it out?” she asked finally, figuring there was little point in pretending she didn’t know exactly who he was accusing her of avoiding. 

He scoffed. “I may not have been able to give you a relationship, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care,” he paused, and turned his attention to the fragmented moon. “It’s hardly my favorite thing—you two being together—but it’s not my place to deny you. ‘Sides, you aren’t a kid anymore, Ruby…and war has a way of forging relationships we may not expect.” 

She sighed. “I don’t know if you could really call it a relationship,” she said with a rueful smile. 

“Then don’t,” Qrow said with a shrug. “But you love him, and that counts for something.”


End file.
